


The Brake is on the Right

by marginaliana



Category: Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: M/M, More Joy Day Fest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 21:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9404420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marginaliana/pseuds/marginaliana
Summary: There was an inevitability to it, falling into bed with Richard.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sistersophie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sistersophie/gifts).



> You may want to first read [this article of James'](http://jamesmayboard.proboards.com/post/298319) from Top Gear Magazine about Richard's vintage Lagonda.

There was an inevitability to it, falling into bed with Richard. Not just because they spent so much time together, because they were used to being teamed up against Jeremy, because they had gone biking a lot and Richard in leather trousers was simply irresistible. 

But it was also inevitable because James was no good at denying himself things he really wanted. He'd tried to be, back in the days when he was working for the civil service and then for Autocar, making enough to support himself but little else. But the trouble was, there was always something more interesting to do than work, something more pleasurable to own than new clothes or furniture that didn't wobble. He'd never quite managed to get the hang of being a proper adult until he was on Top Gear and suddenly he actually wanted to be there; the sensation was so unfamiliar that it was a bit alarming, to be honest.

And there was Richard, who fell into the category of 'Things James Wants' almost immediately. His cheerful grin and his mussed hair and his ridiculous way of having to hoist himself up over the edge of the bonnet when he was working on an engine. James could have loved him the first day they'd met – by the time they were working together he loved him more than he loved pork pies. Which was quite a lot.

It had been easy to go to bed with Richard. To put his hand on Richard's bare arm in the garage one summer afternoon and rub his thumb just so and say, "D'you want to?" Ten minutes later they'd been naked in his bed and that had been easy, too: his mouth on Richard's neck, Richard's hands in his hair and smoothing down his back, his own hands on Richard's arse, spreading him open, Richard's voice in his ear, "Yes, just like that, oh fuck, James, _James_ , you dirty bastard." Easy the morning after, when they'd woken tangled together and then slumped half-dressed into the kitchen and made bacon sandwiches and tea, James humming Beethoven and Richard waggling his arse in time to the music.

It was so easy that in fact James had to keep reminding himself that they could stop, if they needed to. There were any number of reasons why sleeping with one's co-presenter wasn't the wisest idea in the world, not least of which was that people would probably begin to wonder if they were sleeping with Jeremy, too. It was probably a conflict of interest, as well, though James wasn't sure just whose interest was supposed to be conflicting with whose. Perhaps it was just that he felt like anything this amazing had to be somehow illegitimate. All the things he'd wanted up to now had been dangerous or stupid or wasteful or fattening or some combination thereof, so it was decidedly strange to think that this might not be any of those.

It was a bit like rushing along in Richard's vintage Lagonda with the pedals in the wrong places, the two of them constantly repeating 'the brake is on the right' so as to be sure not to forget. It would be easy to give in to instinct, to what felt natural – and therefore it would be easy to catapult oneself forward into a hedge accidentally. It was important to know where the brakes were, even if one didn't end up using them very often. Which probably went triple for the metaphorical sort of brakes. Even if James wasn't entirely sure what the relationship equivalent of catapulting oneself into a hedge would be. 

He thought Richard rather felt the same. They didn't talk about it – that was part of what made it so easy, that they didn't have to talk about it – but sometimes James would catch Richard giving him a measuring look, the sort that said, 'Do we, in fact, know what the fuck we are doing here?' – but the answer must have been 'yes,' or at least, 'doesn't matter,' because it was always followed by that cheeky smile, a wink, a surreptitious kiss or a pat on the arse if they were alone or no one was looking.

By the time they reached series five without disaster, James was beginning to think that self control was overrated. 

Which was good, because he was shit at it anyway.


End file.
